


To Hurt You is to Heal You

by cherry619



Category: Professional Wrestling, World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: Established Relationship, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Multi, POV Outsider
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-26
Updated: 2020-01-26
Packaged: 2021-02-27 08:07:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,919
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22413724
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cherry619/pseuds/cherry619
Summary: Set after Fyter Fest. This is an outsider's POV to Roman and Seth taking care of Mox after the PPV. The outsider does not have very good intentions.
Relationships: Dean Ambrose | Jon Moxley/Roman Reigns, Dean Ambrose | Jon Moxley/Roman Reigns/Seth Rollins | Tyler Black, Dean Ambrose | Jon Moxley/Seth Rollins | Tyler Black, Roman Reigns/Seth Rollins | Tyler Black
Comments: 9
Kudos: 39





	To Hurt You is to Heal You

**Author's Note:**

> So this was something I wanted to write after the match at Fyter Fest. It was an awesome opportunity for some excellent hurt/comfort between the boys. I love writing ambrolleigns any chance I can get. Outsider's POV into the boys relationship also always fascinates me. This was kind of a weird cross between the hurt comfort and something I've been wanting to try that's dark/a character study. I left the outside nameless and also didn't tag him in this. I will after a few days have passed.
> 
> It's not really hard to surmise who the outsider is but I thought it gave the story the darker feeling I was wanting. I will talk more about the outsider at the end of this story and what I wanted to accomplish.
> 
> I also decided to keep Jon Moxley as Dean Ambrose. The boys really don't use either name for him but the outsider recognizes this as Moxley but knows this is also Dean Ambrose at the same time. I hope you guys enjoy.

He knows he shouldn’t be here.

Deep within the pits of his soul and down to his core, however, urged him on. Almost like he was in a trance like state. His other half would chide him how silly the conquest was. That this part of his life was dead and buried. Far removed from the person, _creature_ , he is today. There is no reward past personal self-gain and that was something he was desperately trying to erase from himself.

Sometimes he wanted to strangle his other half. Strangle him until he could hear only gasping noises left, the reddened face begging for release.

Then he would wake up and it would all be a dream.

However, he’s so close. _So_ close. He feels like if he took one hard sniff, he could even smell him. Like a juicy burger being left on the grill to sizzle, the aroma of him wafts past the barriers of brick and mortar and sends tingles of pleasure straight through his entire body.

The lighting inside of the house is down low and muted. Bathing everything in its path in a soft, hazy glow. It almost leaks out and warms his insides. _Almost._

He had to crane his neck to see but straight ahead lying with his back in plain view was _little lamb._

The enticing picture of the crisscross of jagged cuts adorning his muscular back was too much to take in at once. It left him breathless. His hands shook inside of his gloves with the need to spread them across that back. Pushing in on painful bruises with his thumbs until those blue eyes looked at his in agitation and pain. Only the way that Dean could.

Except, watching the man lying so still and prone. Taking in his damaged back and the way his breathing was slightly off kilter with each ragged intake of air due to being uncomfortable. The shorn hair and the tantalizing view of his hip bone just barely covered by the blanket reminded him.

This was no Dean Ambrose. _Little Lamb._ This was Jon Moxley. This was a man who spit in the face of authority and left.

Left _him_.

Even as anger tightened in his gut to the point of pain his face settled out into a serene smile. The glass in the house was awfully thin, allowing him to hear the ramblings going on inside.

The small, cat like whimpers being emitted from the man on the bed also reminded him of something. Despite the badass persona, more muscle, and time spent away; Jon Moxley was simply just a front for Dean Ambrose.

There was no hiding the horror and trauma that still lied beneath his blue eyes. That horror and trauma that he rejoiced in causing and fixing.

Hurting and healing was a game with Dean long before it became a permanent mantra for his life.

Dean always came to him at his absolute lowest points. When he felt the most disgusted, and ashamed of himself. This Jon Moxley was no different to him. It was just a new animal to tame into submission.

He knew Dean like the back of his hand. It’s why he also knew that if he circled around the man’s house on the far-right side there was a broken window lock that he never got fixed. Prying the window open and sliding through with minor difficulty left him with a few abrasions from the shrubbery near the window and that broken seal that always managed to scratch anytime he slid across it.

This is not unfamiliar territory for him. Nor would this be unfamiliar territory for Dean. Despite the fact he hasn’t done this in a very long time, he doesn’t think Dean would ever forget. It’s why the man was alone, even though he was clearly hurting and in pain, or the fact that the broken window remained broken all these years.

It was a small sign that meant this was destined to be. This was fate calling.

The window was an entry into a three-car garage. Just like years before the garage door remained unlocked.

The rest of the house was pitch black making it perfect to blend into the shadows. He’s had plenty of opportunities and practice at doing so. The shadows were normally the places he’d find Dean, so that he could begin to pick up the pieces.

By memory, he knew where his room was. Knew the steps and pathways by heart. He didn’t even need to keep his eyes open under the mask. He let familiarity and comfort guide him.

The door to his bedroom was partially open letting enough light shine through that he could see him in person.

No glass barriers between them. They were both alone. Excitement curled in his belly to the point of absolute giddiness that his other half would be proud of.

He never was this over the moon for anything. After painful months of no contact having Dean right in front of him was almost too much to bear.

The man’s back was more horrible looking up close than seeing through a window. Jagged, red lined cuts crisscrossed at different points. Some shiny with fresh stitches that he didn’t see before. The knife that lay in his pocket almost began to burn his thigh with the pleasure of being able to rip open those stitches. Watch as fresh blood welled and ran down in little rivulets over his back. Dean’s muscles bulging in agony until he was smoothing a soft healing hand over them, peppering each one with light kisses until blood was coating his mouth.

He took a few light steps closer and closer. His hurting hand reaching out to touch. His nerves were so intense that his hand was shaking.

He was so close. _Little Lamb_...

“Hey babe, I got the prescription!”

Startled out of his trance like state his head swung to the open bedroom door as footsteps and mumbling noises got louder.

His eyes darted to a closet and in a few seconds, he was slotting himself inside his eyes having a hard time adjusting to the repulsive sight in front of him.

Roman Reigns was walking through the door, a plastic bag in hand. His hair loosely swaying with each movement.

Vomit began to pool into his mouth, almost like foam wanting to rip forth at the outrage of the sight before him.

His little lamb was within his grasp. All the fun games he had planned ruined thanks to this new development.

The knife once again burned, but not out of eagerness, rather out of pure vengeance. Blood red haze was beginning to fill his vision until his own hurt hand came up to squeeze his throat harshly, choking until his eyes felt like bulging out of his skull. Obviously, his other half was attempting to soothe the beast by prying his other hand off with his healing one. Reminding him of the goal at hand.

He would have to wait it out and see if Roman left. For right now, he would watch in the shadows.

He watched as Roman sat down on the bed gingerly and pulled out a few prescriptions. He rummaged through them until his hands connected with a medicated cream.

“Baby boy, I’m going to rub some of the cream the doctor prescribed on your back alright? Try to relax some more, okay?” Roman’s voice was honey smooth as he leaned over Dean’s prone body whispering gently in his ear while his hand rested on the man’s shoulder.

He bit his lip as he watched hazy blue eyes finally open in confusion. The wince of pain didn’t go unnoticed by either he or Roman.

“Fuck,” The voice slurred, obviously loopy on some form of pain medication. Dean was disorientated and confused.

Seeing how vulnerable Dean was only made him angrier at the fact he has to wait in order to play his sick games.

Suddenly the bathroom door opened making him tighten his hurting hand until he could feel his fingers cracking under the strain. Steam wafted out behind the body of one Seth Rollins. So entranced with his target he didn’t even originally hear the shower running.

His hair was up in a wet, messy bun topped with sweatpants. He looked comfortable and at ease with where he was.

It took all his willpower and restraint not to simply burst out the closet and attack the man immediately. If there was one person, he absolutely loathed and despised it would be Seth. The mind games and torture week after week simply wasn’t enough. He wanted to fill the ache that Dean left behind, and Seth was the best target he could find. He wanted to punish him far worse than any grief has caused Dean over the years. It was like a fire he just couldn’t stamp out.

The thought was infuriating. Sweat began to pool underneath the mask until his eyes were burning from the sting. He couldn’t look away though.

“Hey, how are you feeling?” Seth dropped to his knees in front of Dean’s bleary eyes. His hand reached out and smoothed across the wrinkles of skin that formed from sleeping on his face for too long.

The fact that he had to stand and watch as hands other than his own touch Dean was repulsive.

“Like shit,” Owlish eyes blinked up against the lighting an arm coming across to protect ribs that obviously looked busted.

“Well, I mean that’s what happens when you let a man hit you with barbed wire.” The crooked, sleazy grin that Seth flashed made him want to punch his face in.

“Or at least let a man hit you with barbed wire without us around.” Roman remarked with a fond smile spreading the cream across Dean’s back gently.

He watched as Dean winced. Obviously not expecting the contact but what truly broke his heart to the core was the way Dean reached blindly in search of a hand or _anything_ to hold. He should have been there. Offering both of his hands like he knew Dean needed but Seth was taking his place. Finding Dean’s hand and gripping it tightly while still talking as if nothing was happening.

This was normal. This was reality for them.

This reality needed to be skinned and burned alive. Thrown away into the darkest pits of hell never to be seen again.

“You scared the shit out of me tonight.” Seth whispered softly pulling their connected hands together so that he could kiss the back of Dean’s gently.

“Sorry Mom.” Dean whispered, his face still radiating pain, but his eyes were closed. Obviously fine with letting the two men take care of him. Sure, they wouldn’t ever hurt him.

He needed to end that reality. He needed to get Dean right back to where he belonged. Distrustful of others, unsure of himself, and fearful of the future.

“I had to stop Seth from attacking the TV tonight. Not that I could blame him.” Roman chimed in finishing up Dean’s back with a gentle squeeze of his neck. “Let the cream dry before rolling over okay? We don’t need anything getting infected.”

“How’s your elbow?”

He had almost forgotten that little lamb was once dangerously ill. He was so excited at all the new infliction's of pain on his body he completely forgot about the major one that still plagued him to this day.

“Its fine.” Dean garbled his voice getting deeper and scratchier as time ticked on. He could see it in the way his eyes were mere slits that the man was truly comfortable and relaxed. Unlike earlier when he was almost within reach of what was his.

“I’ll be the judge of that.” Roman said getting up off the bed and walking around to the other side. Seth scooted over but didn’t break his hold over Dean’s hand. He simply held it up so Roman could scrutinize his reddened elbow. It looked raw and painful, but it didn’t look infected, just banged up.

The inspection satisfied Roman but saddened him. He used to enjoy toying with little lambs bum shoulder and arm. Multiple injuries to it left it weaker than the other and very easy to bend until he was howling in pain if you knew the right spots.

And of course, he knew all of little lambs painful spots.

Noticing Dean’s eyes blinking slowly and his breathing steadying out Seth said, “you need to get some more rest.”

Dean smiled, a sickly-sweet smile that reminded him of the times when Dean wanted to be defiant just because he could. It was his stubborn, brat side that came out just to anger people into giving him what he wanted.

It riled him up like nothing else ever really could. Loving the push back he got because it made the hurting and eventual healing much more enjoyable when Dean was fighting him every step of the way.

“Only if you join me.”

He felt his heartbeat painfully at the words. Not sure if he could watch Dean in bed with...with that nauseating creature. 

The look Seth gave in return as he stood up and _finally_ broke skin contact was both doubtful yet delighted. Like he wouldn’t be anywhere else.

“I don’t want to hurt you.”

_I do_ he immediately thought.

It was a weak argument at best. But that was Seth Rollins. Weak. It was clear Seth would give into temptation far more easily than he ever would.

Dean smiled with his eyes closed, goofy and carefree as he patted the part of the bed in front of him. A silent, “come on” gesture.

“Might as well do it babe,” Roman winked getting up off the floor and walking to the other side of the bed. “You know how our boy likes to be sandwiched when he doesn’t feel good.”

Seth rolled his eyes. “Okay.”

The bed was admittedly a king and Dean was pretty much in the middle if a little more to the left. But he had a hard time imagining how Seth’s figure would slot against Dean’s as easily as his did.

He even scoffed at the idea. His hands gripped the door jam of the closet in anticipation. Just wanting to see if his assumption was correct.

Seth slid himself onto the bed being careful not to bump or jostle Dean unnecessarily.

With both shock, horror and fury he watched as Seth seamlessly molded into Dean’s his arms intertwining until he wasn’t sure which was which.

Seth’s head was a little higher up than Dean’s. Allowing Dean’s head to slot right into Seth’s shoulder and neck.

Despite the pain radiating from Dean’s every twitch the pure happiness and comfort that shone on his small smile reflected right into the closet, straight at his chest and slammed hard into his heart.

He couldn’t take much more. It’s why he had to look away and missed Roman turning off the lights, going to the bathroom himself before coming back out. Maybe fifteen minutes had already passed by this time.

A small nightlight was glowing from inside the bathroom which allowed him to see Roman bending down and kissing first Seth on the forehead than Dean. His hand came up and rubbed at Dean’s short hair in affection. An “I love you,” slipped out before he too was taking off his shirt and fitting himself behind Dean.

The Samoan was careful not to touch his injured back and slid one arm behind his pillow and the other one rested on Dean’s exposed hip bone. A clear sign of possession if he ever saw any.

The image before him burned into his retinas. His hand slid into his pocket and pulled out the knife that has been throbbing at him for the last half hour.

He slid out of the closet soundlessly.

All three men clearly exhausted to the point they let their guard down.

His eyes roamed over Seth and Dean’s legs curled together. The way Roman’s lower half was clearly framing little lambs ass.

Or how Seth and Dean’s hands were still curled together low on Seth’s belly.

All signs of something that needed to die.

His knife rested in his hurt hand and he brought it up over his head pointed straight at Rollins face. Wanting to make him as ugly on the outside as he was on the inside.

He brought it down swiftly but paused right before he was stabbing him in his eye. His heal hand had a sharp grasp on his wrist. Both hands shaking trying to get dominance over the other.

It wasn’t until a loud moaning coming from Dean had his heal hand winning. He retracted his hurt hand and the knife as his body, involuntarily, pulled itself away from the three men.

Away from little lambs moans and out the bedroom door.

Almost on autopilot his body took him right back to where he started.

Outside.

In the dark and cold.

Still a barrier between him and little lamb.

He was forced to watch as Roman shushed him gently his palm rubbing soothing circles where it rested on Dean’s hip.

Or the way that Seth brushed a kiss across his forehead, even in his semi-conscious state wanting to offer relief and comfort from whatever was hurting Dean currently.

Something sick twisted in his stomach as his hurt hand touched the glass.

Soon his body thought.

Soon.

**Author's Note:**

> So the outsider was Bray/The Fiend. I love, love LOVE exploring the relationship or rather power Bray feels he has over Dean. I think their dynamic is an interesting play into Dean's darker side compared to what he has with Roman/Seth.
> 
> I also wanted to do a bit of a character study of The Fiend and how that is different than Bray Wyatt. I hope I wrote him differently to portray that here. I wanted a lot of focus to be on hands. I may actually do more for this either in the boys POV or just more like this because I had a fun time writing the fiend and how he sees how Dean has basically erased him and moved on. 
> 
> Thanks for reading (and reviewing)!


End file.
